


Oracles of Rome

by hikarufly



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, F/M, Missing Scene, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarufly/pseuds/hikarufly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Clara fought after Kill the Moon, and he is suddenly stranded and stuck in Ancient Rome. There are encounters to be made, and forces to overcome, or the Doctor will never see his Clara again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Domus

The widow turned the corner of the street and found the house she was looking for. A young girl, probably a slave, walked her in. From the outside, it looked nothing more than a normal house, but in fact, it was a very fine _domus_. They passed the _vestibulus_ , but didn't stop at the _atrium_ , were a small _impluvium_ had gathered the rainwater from the open roof. The widow knew that, in rich houses such as that, guests were greeted in that space, but that was not the case. The house looked inhabited and hollow, as if nobody was living there and the barbarians had made a robbery, and left what was not valuable or useful in a mess. 

The slave girl asked the widow to wait for a moment: the  _tablinum_ , the study of the master of the house, was in front of them, closed by a curtain, which was uncommon at the time. With a door, you could not see the  _atrium_ or the  _vestibulus_ behind it, and you could not see who was coming.

« _Dominus_ ?» asked the slave girl, without entering, as though she was speaking to the curtain. There was no reply.

« _Dominus_ , there is someone here to see you.» continue the girl. 

«I heard you the first time, I'm not deaf» was the reply, in a low, grumpy and dry voice.

The widow was surprised: it seemed an old voice, so ancient she could not count the years it had. She almost expected an old owl to get out of the  _tablinum_ , parting the curtain in his flight and be free.

«Can she come in,  _Dominus_ ?» the girl asked again, and since there was no answer again, the slave made a gesture for her to pass the curtain.

The widow got inside the room, expecting to see the same kind of man she was used to see, but hoping he would be different, to get different answers. She came to see an  _haruspex_ , a fortune teller, someone who could understand the signs of the Gods and reply to her questions. What she really wanted, as all people want from fortune tellers, is a positive answer, a reassurance that all would be well, in the end. She got inside the room, and almost went straight out. There were no animals or carcasses from which the haruspex could understand the Gods' will, only a lot of paper, boards and pieces of chalk, strange machines and objects all around. The man was sitting in the middle of the room, on a sort of comfy armchair, in front of a very messy table or desk. He was old, very old, she reckoned, more of spirit than appearance. Grey hair on his head, a simple tunic around his thin, gaunt body, his blue eyes were piercing hers when they met.

Behind him there was also a curtain, hiding the _perystilium,_  making the room difficult to stay in: the air was stagnant, all over there was shade, and candles all around were lighting what the sun could have lit better, the old frescoes on the walls almost darkened by their vapours. The man was looking at a big volume, with hands blackened by some charcoal pencil he had been holding and using on a piece of stained paper, full of markings, like calculation of some sort. He was looking at her in that moment, though, an eyebrow lifted, grey and expressive as its twin, waiting for her to speak.

« _Dominus_ , I come here to seek for your advice. I need to ask the Gods about my future. I need to know...» she started, but he interrupted her, getting up from his armchair.

«Are you seeking for words of wisdom or comfort?» asked he, walking around the desk to be in front of her. The widow made a step back.

«I need to know if all will be well. The Gods must know» said she.

«How are the Gods supposed to know what will happen or not? How am I supposed to know?» asked him, looking as if her presence was bothering him a lot.

The widow looked at him, offended.

«I came all the way here, from the other side of the city, and you do not have even a word for me?» asked her with an angry voice «what sort of haruspex are you?»

The old man sighed.

«Fine, fine... I'll be good. Close your eyes.» he ordered, putting his hands at the side of her face, his index fingers on her temples, staining them black. He closed his eyes, while she was staring at his face, so close now she could hear his breath.

He looked like he was reading a book, his eyes shifting behind his eyelids, making all sorts of faces along the way. After a few moments, the woman backed off.

«What are you doing? I was finally finding something interesting!» said he, like she was not there at all.

«You scare me, _Dominus_ » replied the woman, almost in a whisper.

He grinned.

«You'd better be.» said he, putting then his hands on his back and lowering his head, smiling more self-pitying for a moment.

«There is nothing to be scared of. Your fears are silly and everything will be well for you and your son. Now go, I have more important work to do.»

He had spoken those words like he wanted to get rid of her soon, but deep down didn't really want to hurt her. She was visibly relieved, even though it was difficult to say if that was due to the good news or to have been dismissed so early. The young slave walked her back to the front door and closed it. She then returned to her master, getting inside the _tablinum_.

«Get out, I'm busy.» said the old man, who was sitting at his desk again.

«Is it true? What you said to her. Is she going to be al-right, and her son with her?» asked the slave, her eyes full of fear and exhaustion. He did not reply at first. She was so submissive, whatever the orders she obeyed, not like...

«How long have you been here?» he asked, drawing something with his charcoal pencil on a blank page.

«Six weeks, _Dominus_ » she replied, without hesitation.

«You're dismissed. Fired. I don't want to see you here again.» said he, without looking at her. His face was like a mask.

«Have I done something wrong?» asked her, evidently defeated and accepting his decision anyway.

«You still have a life and somebody you can look after that is worth looking after. Leave me alone.» said he, again, this time like he wanted to hurt her. She nodded, shed a small tear and went away, never to return.

It was only when he was alone that he stood up. He put her portrait on a pile of other girls and boys pictures he had done in the same fashion, turning around and getting out of the room, entering the _perystilium_ , the portico and garden inside the house. There was a pool in the middle of it. He took off his tunic, with a fierce look on his face, concentrating on something else, somewhere else and someone else. It was only when he entered the water, walking slowly, naked and alone, that he started to cry.

 


	2. Ancient Rome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did the Doctor get to Ancient Rome?

“You go away. You go a long way away.”

The Doctor moved around the console of his TARDIS, reaching the stairs and sitting in his old armchair. He took a book, tried to read it but failed. Why was she so upset? Why couldn't she understand that he was only trying to respect her, to give her and mankind the opportunity to choose? He couldn't understand what he did wrong, and yet he was not angry with her. He looked around, his eyes filling up again with tears, exactly like the moment when Clara closed the TARDIS' door behind her, and left him.

“Get back in your lonely... lonely bloody TARDIS and you don't come back.”

Lonely it was, with only him inside. There had been so many with him... humans, too. He did not think they were tiny and predictable. He did not think they were not special. He had always been so overwhelmed by them that, with his new face and brain and hearts, he could only cope with it by taking a distance, physical or emotional. Long were the days when he really could give a good hug without tearing his soul apart.

He had flown the TARDIS away, and he was then floating in space, not really knowing what to do next.

«Where should we go, old girl?» asked the Doctor, caressing the console «you usually know best, I give you that. Maybe I need a break, a nice place where I can think... some place, some time were I can understand.»

He put his fingers in the telepathic interface on the console, closing his eyes, as Clara did some tiem before. His TARDIS would know what was best for him, and were to lead him next, according to the place where his mind needed to be.

“Clara, Clara, Clara...”

The wheezing, groaning sound of the TARDIS meant that she landed somewhere. The Doctor took off his hands from the interface and went out, curious and excited.

«Ancient Rome!» exclaimed «Sometimes I definitely repeat myself... and hopefully I am actually in Rome: seven hills, no smoking mountain. I still need a proper look» added then, walking around.

He turned around, as to see Clara's reaction, but Clara wasn't there. His smile froze on his face, and he continued walking. There were all sorts of people and things on the streets. There was a fat woman, painted in red, and a girl on her knees in front of her. She was praying, she wanted a child, a boy. The Doctor went on. He turned a corner just to avoid a couple of senators he had encountered before, with another face, just because he didn't like them, not for fear of being recognized. He continued to explore and changed himself just behind some sheets, hung to dry in the sun, with a tunic next to them, leaving his clothes in a corner – it could be seen as swapping, not stealing. It was a hot, late summer afternoon and he spent it making fun of fortune tellers and soothsayers and discussing about astronomy with a couple of professors who were afterwards utterly confused. He saw the Circus Maximus at the end of the great streets of the city, but he thought he could take a look the next day: he was alone after all, he could do as he pleased. Feeling a bit hungry, he decided to try a tavern of sorts. The landlord greeted him as they had been good friends for a long time.

«Good old Caecilius! It's been a while.» said he, an arm around the Doctor's shoulders.

«Who? What are you talking about? I don't know you. And now get off!» replied the Time Lord, getting out of that uncomfortable embrace.

«I see what you did there...» the landlord smiled, ironically «You've already been drinking! Come on, this one is on the house»

He presented the Doctor with a huge mug full of what looked like spiced red wine. He sipped it, and then turned to the landlord.

«What did you say my name was again?»

«Lobus Caecilius, the marble merchant of course.» replied the other one «Escaped from Pompeii a few years ago now.»

«Fine. Put everything on my bill.»

So the Doctor ate and drank, but not too much, looking around in silence. The loneliness hit him when a woman sat next to him, babbling about keeping her warm, to show him the stars.

«I can see the stars by myself, thank you very much.» replied him, angrily «I am the one to show the stars to people, actually.»

The woman thought this sentence had all another sense to it, and the Doctor had physically to remove her hands from himself. He left the place in a hurry, looking for his TARDIS. Travelling alone was no good, no good at all. He had to find Clara, not to apologise of course, but trick her somehow to go with him on adventures again. Maybe he could find her someone like Robin Hood... surely with less laughing. Or perhaps he could just kidnap Mr Pink and leave him on that planet where all the population was devoted to gymnastic and fitness. Wouldn't that be lovely for that P.E. teacher, and above all extremely and conveniently far away from Clara?

He didn't realise he was talking out loud while thinking, and he found himself in front of the spot where the TARDIS landed, finding nothing there.

«Oh, come on Romans! It's not modern art!» exclaimed «It's a time machine, for goodness sake!»

He didn't want an answer, but he didn't get one either. He felt dizzy and the night became even more dark and black, as he lost his senses, feeling an hand and a cloth around his mouth.

 


	3. Where do we go from here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will happen next?

The Doctor was out of the tablinum, and was searching for something. He had many calculations to finish, schemes and diagrams to draw and solve. He had been there for weeks, months. Possibly, a year already, or more. His TARDIS had been taken and was not reachable at the moment. Someone, the same that took the spaceship, had got his own key, and the spare ones were inside the big blue box. Slaves and servants had been sent to him, but none could help. None of them was strong enough, active enough, intelligent enough... the truth was, none of them was Clara. The pile of portraits he had in his tablinum was full of their faces. He could not forget them now, and he didn't want to. He helped them, in his own way of course, especially releasing them. He wondered who they will send him now, if they would send another one.

What was the point? He was alone, or to be precise, Clara was not with him. Travelling alone, he had done it often in his lifetime, but now it seemed so helpless, so futile, so useless. There was nobody waiting, nobody wanting to see him.

“... and you don't come back.”

Nobody wanted him to be back. She didn't want him back.

So why not keep on and making fun of fortune tellers and help out as he always did? Being the haruspex people needed to talk to, to be reassured, comforted. Studying in peace and being the mad scientist again. He sighed. He was fooling himself, and he knew it. How could he stay there and just live and have a house like anybody else? He could not live like this. That was why he was so eager to do something, so keen on being busy that in struggling to do so, he was doing nothing.

He had just forgotten what he was searching for, and in a moment of rage, throw everything away from the surface of the table he was inspecting.

«Hello?» asked a voice.

He didn't pay attention to it and passed his hands in his hair and on his face.

«Anybody home?» said that voice again.

The Doctor froze. A shiver ran down his spine, of fear or anticipation, he could not tell. He walked towards the atrium and stopped, suddenly.

«It can't be...» he whispered.

A young woman had just entered and was looking around, puzzled. She was dressed in a white tunic, a sign of mourning for the Romans at the time. The dead are pale and white.

«Are you the master of the house?» she asked, not recognizing him «My name is Clara. Clara Ovidia Osteriana.»

The Doctor stood there, both his hearts broken. It was not his Clara, how could she be? Without a time traveller, and without a reason to see him, there was no reasonable possibility. She was an echo of Clara, some version of her that was scattered all along his life stream and had only one reason to be there: save him.

 


	4. Fixing things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See how Roman Clara deals with the Doctor.

The girl was standing in front of him now. He had reached her, with serious expression and demeanour, and she didn't step aside or behind. She looked so much like Clara... same face, same eyes, same hair though combed differently. He was not sure she was the same age, but he was never sure of that. Her dress was white, and that meant only one thing.

«Are you in mourning?» asked the Doctor, keeping a physical distance with her. She nodded.

«My husband. He went away with the legions up north, seven years ago. He was reported missing, and then dead» she explained, with melancholy eyes and calm tone.

«Seven years is a long time without a kiss» murmured the Doctor, but she didn't catch it.

«And you?» asked she. He feared she had heard him, but she didn't.

«Me?» replied him.

«You're dressed in white. Are you a Senator? It is not even time for elections. They told me you were an haruspex» explained Clara.

The Doctor looked at his clothes: he did “exchange” his clothes for a tunic back on the day he arrived in Ancient Rome, but now he wore whatever he found in the house. Perhaps, they gave him a Senator's house.

«It is either white or black» he said, simply «but not for any particular reasons»

Clara looked around, trying to find something to say, but he interrupted her stream of conciousness.

«How can you know about elections?» asked him, inquisitively.

«I may be a plebeian but I am not stupid» replied her, with some pride.

He chuckled.

«Certain things never change...»

She was puzzled, while he realised it was the first time in months he was really smiling.

«Did “they” send you here?» he asked, after a few moments.

«I... don't know» replied her «some people gave me a job, here, as a servant. It is beneath me» she said, more with resignation than anger «but this is what I must endure.»

His eyebrows lifted.

«So you must “endure” me?» enquired him, almost offended. “It's not her, keep calm, don't be mean”, his voice said, in his head.

«There is no need to be cross» said her, brusquely.

She went trough the atrium and entered the house, looking around. He followed her, almost afraid she would vanish.

«This place is a complete mess! Do you live here alone?» exclaimed her, noting the complete chaos the house was in. He couldn't reply fast enough, she was now inspecting the main _cubiculum_ , the bedroom.

«This place is dusty. Where do you sleep?» asked she, looking almost worried at him.

«I don't, usually. I take a nap in my office, from time to time. And I hate bedrooms» said he, proudly. She sighed and shook her head.

«No wonder they were so desperate for someone to come here.»

She put her hands on her hips, in a fiesty, proud and determined manner.

«I'll fix things. I'm very good at that» said she, almost as a declaration.

He shrugged.

«Suit yourself.»

He left the open space and returned to his tablinum. He tried to concentrate on his calculations and graphs, but it was almost impossible. Clara, that Clara, that “echo” of his Clara, was not noisy, not at all. With her tiny little body and her dress practically draped so that it would enable every movement she wanted to make, was moving swiftly and doing what she said she would do: she was fixing things. She was tiding up and cleaning: picking up things and storing them somewhere else, rearranging the furniture or the objects on and around them, scrubbing floors and dusting every inch of the surfaces she could find. Sweat began to cover her forehead, just slightly, like tiny drops of rain. She stretched to reach up high the webs in the further corners of the rooms, she squatted down to scrub the floor, her legs free from the dress, slightly tanned, as the rest of her skin.

He watched her all day long, asking himself when she would stop. She worked all day long, taking a break now and then to dry her forehead, to have a bite or take a breath.

She had gone to the other side of the domus, where the pool and the kitchens, together with dining room and servants' rooms, were. Only after the sun had started going down she reached the tablinum, taking the curtain away and simply opening the door for good.

«Hey! I need that. I don't want to be interrupted.» the Doctor protested. She did as she hadn't heard anything.

«You should go to bed.» she said, like an order.

He looked at her, first puzzled, then stubborn.

«You can't make me. And the cubiculum is a mess, you said that.»

«Fixed that, didn't I» said Clara, with a smile «Now you get up, go to the triclinium and have dinner, as a proper _Dominus_ should. You eat your food, drink your wine, and then go to bed.»

The Doctor looked at her, as a boy looks at his mother when she gives orders that he dislikes.

«I said you can't make me» he repeated, but her gaze was somewhat too familiar and intense for him to ignore.

«I already made dinner, and the bed. Your soup will get cold. There was no bread, but tomorrow I'll go shopping.» said she, still looking directly at him. The Doctor looked at her, feeling more and more awkward. He sighed.

«Fine. But I can't promise I'll finish it. Especially if you spy on me.»

He stood up, and pointed ad her.

«You don't come in this room or touch anything, understood?»

She looked back but did not reply.

«I don't want anyone to see or mess around. This is my work, this is my stuff, and it is only mine. You don't come in or you'll regret it.» the Doctor said. His face was not angry but it was severe and slightly mad, just as his gaze was. His Clara knew it, but not this Clara. It scared her, and it was more than visible on her face. She nodded and lowered her gaze.

The Doctor was sorry and mortified. He didn't want to frighten her. He got closer, putting a hand, very delicately, on her shoulder. She was shivering.

«Thanks» said he, struggling with himself. He was scared she could hug him or something.

She nodded again, smiling slightly, but keeping her gaze away.

«Good. Okay.» said he, again, leaving the room and moving to the triclinium. He had his dinner, drank his wine – red and spicy as the one Caecilius paid for – and went to bed, while she disappeared in one of the deserted servants' rooms.

The Doctor stared at the ceiling, asking himself if she was still scared of him or not, if she was sleeping, and what was she going to do next. How could she save him?

 


	5. The Land of Perpetual Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was waiting, sorry for the delay.  
> The co-habitation is working... or not?

After a few days, it rained. Bolts of lightning were flashing in the sky, thunders were rumbling between the clouds, and the true force of nature made people tremble. Winds were blowing strong, and all the women were rushing home from markets and temples. Clara did it too. She was avoiding the Dominus, the Doctor, but did what she was supposed to. She was a good servant: she prepared his meals, cleaned his house... all sorts of things. He was keeping himself to himself, usually locked up in his study or reading big books in corners, but she was more than concious of him spying on her, from time to time. Not spying, exactly. He pretended not to look but he was looking, as he was trying to see something that perhaps wasn't there. The Doctor was looking for his Clara in this Clara, of course, but she couldn't know. He was not creepy, in fact, he just looked lonely and sad, and she was sorry for him.

She came home with some cereals and fruit, and put everything in the kitchen. She stored all things perfectly, so they could not rot or be wasted too quickly. She waited for the milkman and paid him fast: he did not want to be around in that weather. All the streets were deserted, the rain was beginning to fall. Clara found herself staring at the raindrops spotting and dotting the surface of the pool, on the back of the Domus, disturbing the water almost. It looked like the calmest of things was awakening, slowly but relentlessly, because of a small but steady disturbance.

The Doctor came out of his study and looked up, frowning, examining the sky. It was white and grey, full of light one moment and dark the other, growling like a beast ready to hunt, jump on its prey and feast upon it. He grinned, leaving the safe spot under the portico, directly opposite to where the Roman Clara was. She wanted to tell him to stop and find shelter where it was dry and safe. What if the thunder was aiming for him? She said nothing, though.

His face was beautiful and terrible: it was full of rage and restlessness, full of energy and brutality, and yet also full of wit and curiosity. There was something wild in him she couldn't understand. It was like he was trying to feel the rain, feel its power and strength, like caressing the beast feeling its bones and muscles under the skin. His grey hair, his eyebrows, his face and his tunic were getting wet moment by moment, but he didn't care. He smiled more broadly, more wildly, but also more enthusiastically. The sky rumbled again, fiercely. He walked around the pool and reached her, offering his hand to her. She didn't know what to do, but after a few moments, she took it. He pulled her under the rain: she tried to cover her hair, her face, but then she let go of all worries and anxieties, and let the rain wet her and her clothes. She smiled, at first, and then giggled and then laughed, without letting go of his hand.

«There is a place, very far from here, where different skies paint the world. A place of perpetual storm, the land of perpetual rain.» the Doctor started to say «all its inhabitants have found a way of living and breathing both air and water»

Her laugh became quiet and she listened to his story.

«They don't look like frogs there, but they live in the same way: they have pools in their houses, bigger than the rest of the chambers, and they worship the Great Goddess of Rain, the High King of Clouds, but also their daughters, the Spirits of the Rivers, and their grandson, the Dark and Wide Sea, son of all the Rivers. They think all calamities come from the struggle between Rain and Thunder, both in love with the King of Clouds and always jealous of each others. Their temples are not made of stone and marble, they look up and cry for help...»

The Doctor looked up too, as he was praying to the clouds too. The Roman Clara was trembling, but not for the chill of the rain.

«I cannot reach them, I cannot help them.» said the Doctor, after a few seconds.

«Why not? What is keeping you here?» asked her. He looked at her, like he was far, far away, like his mind was already there, in that long distant land.

«I did what I was told, and now I cannot be content, I cannot rest. I cannot stay, but I don't know how to leave.» replied him. She trembled again, she was very cold now. He noticed it after a while and walked her back in the portico. He took a blanket and wrapped her with it, like a father would do with his little girl.

«I will help you, if you let me.» said she «I mean it.» she added then, because he looked like he did not believe her. He lowered his head, and then looked back up at her.

«You see, that is the problem. What if I don't let you help me?» he asked. She thought about it but said nothing. She didn't know what he meant. He stepped away a few paces, then turned round at her. He had a curious, inquisitive look about him.

«If I help you, will you help me?» said the Doctor, then.

«I don't need helping, I can help myself» replied her, proudly.

«Everybody needs help, especially when they deny it.» he declared, then he shrugged, rubbed his hair with his fingers, to shake the rain away and left her all alone.

She was sure he was talking about himself, not her.

 


	6. Flamen Dialis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day, something happened, and everything changed.

Even if nothing happened, something changed.

The Doctor was less secretive and silent, and asked the Roman Clara to keep him company sometimes. He would tell her tales of his travels that she could not quite grasp but that gave her a sense of wonder and curiosity. She started to wish she was the girl he told her about, very faintly, the one who accompanied him in all his travels. She did not dare, for now, asking him to take her away, because of that day under the rain, and his very sad eyes when he finished his stories and could only get to the next room, and no further. They became more than Dominus and servant, but still one step before becoming friends. There was always something between them, or perhaps something about her that made him very uncomfortable, and she couldn't explain to herself what it was.

One day, something happened, and everything changed.

As a haruspex, or a supposed one, the Doctor was visited on a regular basis, even only every week or so. They were usually widows and young lovers, soldiers and warriors, who came to talk to him, because more than anybody they needed reassurance and believed in superstition. On that day, there was only one person in search of enlightenment. He was a patrician, a nobleman, but not simply a member of the aristocracy. He was a _Flamen Dialis_ , a high priest of Jupiter, king of all the Gods. Clara, the Roman Clara, opened the door when the _Flaminica Dialis_ , the priest's wife who was walking him, requested permission to enter. They were very noble and important, and Clara knew she had to stop every sort of work she was doing: the _Flamen Dialis_ was not to be disturbed with thoughts or actions, he was always in contact with Jupiter and triviality had to get rid from the place he was inhabiting, at any given moment. The _Flamen Dialis_ greeted the household gods, as his wife did, and he proceeded, guided by Clara, to the Doctor's study. He barely gazed upon the guests, curved on his desk and writing relentlessly, as his life depended on it. Clara was nervous, she didn't want the great priest, or worst Jupiter, to be offended by her Dominus. The priest, whose usual reaction was contempt and bitterness at that regardless attitude towards him, so rarely found, was in that moment silent and waiting. His wife barely recognized him.

« _ Dominus _ , I need to speak to you.» said the  _ Flamen _ , with low, strong yet gentle voice.

The Doctor raised his head from his papers, his hands stained with dark ink. He frowned.

«Then speak, nobody else is talking!» exclaimed him, then pointed at a chair in the room, as to invite him to sit. The  _ Flamen _ , though, was too nervous and could only stand or walk. Clara was addressed by the  _ Flaminica _ , and they both went out, leaving the two men alone.

The Doctor looked at his guest, and felt, somehow, something was different about him. Religion had always been to him childish superstition, people's opiate, silly and meaningless spells and rituals, though fascinating, but there was something about that high priest of sorts that tickled his scientific instinct.

«Why are you here,  _ Flamen Dialis _ ? I may be an hermit of sort, but I know about your... well let's say “kind”. You don't get out of the house, or temple, without a valid reason.» said the Doctor, standing up. The priest was standing now, and gave a brief look to the escape routes, and looked as he was afraid the older man could harm him and wanted to make sure he could fly out as quickly as possible. He was puzzled and afraid, but mostly the latter. 

«I have been watching Jupiter's messages, in the skies above us. There was something I could not really get myself to understand, or ignore or cast away... something about stars, empires, wars, something so terrible and yet so amazing it filled my dreams with visions and oracles.»

As the Roman spoke, the Doctor looked more interested and less frightening. The  _ Flamen _ could see, though, that there was a dark and ancient beast lurking behind those fierce eyes. The Doctor invited him again to sit on the chair in front of him, doing the same when finally the guest sat.

«I have no time for superstition, or religion.» said the Doctor, calmly but firmly. The priest frowned.

«Isn't it your job, haruspex?» asked the man.

«I am a scientist. I have no interest for silly rituals and meaningless prayers.» replied the Time Lord.

«And yet you receive all sorts of people and you give them the Gods' words.» the Roman pointed out.

«I just tell them what they want to hear, so they leave me alone to work.»

«Work on what exactly?»

The Doctor caught his guest's eyes. The priest was an intelligent man, that was as clear as sunlight on the shores of Ostia's port, but there was still something, an intellectual obstacle between the two of them.

«Your job is superstition,  _ Flamen _ » said the Doctor, after a few seconds «believing in a bearded man sending lightning from the clouds and cavorting with humans just because he gets bored of his wife, giving birth from his head or knee. Surely, you can see how silly all of this is.»

If the Flamen was to hear this from any other Roman, serious consequences would follow. But the man was well aware that that strange old madman with strong and clear eyes was something “other”.

«I search the skies and you may call it silly if you like. But I am no hermit: I live and breath in the city, I meet the patrician and the high ranks of Roman society. Nobody seemed to know you before you came here and nobody seems to care that you arrived out of the blue in an old abandoned patrician  _ domus. _ » 

The  _ Flamen _ was now getting to the point. The Doctor smiled an ironic grin. His guest continued.

«You give surprisingly specific oracles, for someone who doesn't really believe in those things. It seems like you see and understand people, as they are and behave, and so predict what will happen to them, or what they would do, most likely.»

The Doctor nodded, though just to encourage him to continue.

«Since you arrived here, the stars started moving in a different, strange way. I watch the skies, haruspex, and they give me very confusing answers, more confusing than ever. Sometimes, though, they get very precise. Jupiter send me a very vivid dream, a few nights ago. I saw you, now I can tell for I have met you. You were on the top of mount Vesuvius, bathed in vapour, as it was about to explode again. Your servant was with you, though she was dress oddly for a woman. She was throwing keys in the mountain, ordering you to “do as you were told”»

The Doctor could make anything out of it, but he very well knew that time travel had always been possible in dreams. He waited for him to speak again.

«The Gods never speak to me without reason. There must be something they want me to say to you. I waited for a sign, an explanation, then I understood I had to find the words myself. I searched the skies again and then I saw it clearly. Jupiter send me here to tell you have to get back to her.»

«Who? Who is “her”?» asked the Doctor, still a fierce look on his face, but curious now.

«The girl of the mountain. She's not your servant, she cannot be, that is what I saw. You need to get back to her. She's not angry, that's what Jupiter says, not really. You need to get back to her, to end it.»

«End it?» the Doctor was puzzled now.

«She wanted to end it, that is why you are here.»

The Doctor was half amazed, half appalled.

«Why didn't you get back to her yet? I keep asking myself that. You don't belong, here. It shows, even now. Something inside you is struggling to leave, your soul is...»

The Flamen couldn't express himself. He was overwhelmed by his visions and his oracles.

«I cannot leave.» said the Doctor then «I am stuck in this time and place, I was forced to be here by foolish yet powerful beings. They took my ship»

The Roman priest seemed to light up: so there was something indeed, it was not just him misunderstanding the Gods' messages.

«Why didn't you get it back yet? Are they too strong?»

«Strength is not the problem. I do not fight. Violence is not really my thing.» the Doctor explained «I need to work on their methods and outsmart them. That is why I am studying.»

«Is it taking you so long? You've been here for months.»

The Doctor lowered his gaze.

«It doesn't take me so long. I can make calculation in the blink of an eye, read papers at high speed. I can read your mind as we are talking now, I can see your past, present and future. I could tell you how you will die, what your children would do with their lives. There is no such thing as foretelling, but I could guarantee you that the Roman empire will be overthrown, that another God will inherit this city. I could take you to a time when great temples are erected to the new religion, and give you a taste.»

«Why, then?» said the  _ Flamen _ again, almost frustrated by his ambiguous and terrible answers «Why are you still here, when you are so eager to go away?»

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but stopped. The  _ Flamen _ sighed.

«It's her, isn't it? She told you to stay away, and you are staying a long way away.»

The Doctor was stunned. The exact word she said. Could he believe in oracles, now?

«Talk to your servant. There must be a reason why they look so similar.» said the priest, now concerned. He perfectly knew what love is, and didn't like people to suffer. He would have made a fine true catholic, in another time.

«There is. She's here to save me.» whispered the Doctor, to himself or the  _ Flamen _ was difficult to say.

They parted after a long silence. The guest and his wife left, with concerning eyes and troubled souls. The Roman Clara watched them passing the corner and then went back inside.

The Doctor was waiting for her.

«I need you.» he said, in a low, desperate and dark voice.

His servant felt her heart sinking. Her soul knew what he meant, but her mind understood not.

 


	7. Study your enemy, that is how you start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a long time. I hope I can find the right way to finally defeat writer's block and continue the story.  
> here's a (I hope) nice bit.

Rome, legend said, had been funded in 753 BC by Romulus, one of the twins that the she-wolf had fed and raised as her own. Truth was lost, and religion has always been powerful in this cases: the Doctor said that humanity superpower was forgetting, actually.

Religion was also a perfect way to give people rules and motivation, and Romans may not have had the nobility of the Greeks, but they were smart. Temples and chapels, with roofs or walls or neither of those, were everywhere in the city, some magnificent and fearful, some reassuring and small. The new and humble religion of the Christians was different, hidden under the streets and into the tunnels, for fear of prosecution.

In the middle, that was where true power stood. Behind the columns and draperies and below the floors of the temples, veiled figures walked corridors, had meetings, and decided the fate of all those around and above them. Their anatomy was almost human, their features though were more delicate and sweet. Their eyes were deep and dark, and full of secrets. After the last Time War, when the Time Lords had disappeared into nothingness, their race and culture were young and pretentious. They decided Time had to be ruled anyway, and if the Time Lords had been to old to do it properly, they would do it better. They settled in Rome first, considering Earth a disposable and sample-like planet to try their skills on. Why not start with a bang? They studied everything in order to mingle among the population and avoid suspect.

What they hadn't expected was Time Lord technology or even Time Lord “people” to come out and destroy their plan. One of their scout had found the Tardis, and took it, waiting for her owner to come and pick it up: to stop him or her, maybe to acquire what could be useful. They didn't realise they had captured one of the fighters of the War, and one of the rebels. They didn't realise they had a good idea but as all amateurs needed guidance, and especially they needed modesty.

The Doctor tried and persuade them not to interfere, to let the human race decide for themselves. If you never make mistakes, you can't evolve. Paternalism is not always effective, and can be destructive.

They didn't listen. They were hurt in their pride: how could that mad old fool scold them? So they decided: he was to be confined and they would study his machine deep down to its core and discover the secrets on their own. They had higher technology and less compassion.

That was to change, now. The Doctor had now his most powerful weapon: the trust and friendship of a simple, normal human being.

 


	8. The Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going into "battle"!

Clara, the Roman Clara, frowned.

«So... they are like Gods. They decide, or better they want to decide, what is best for us, and rule our lives»

Superstition, underdeveloped civilization: it was really complicated, the Doctor thought.

«I suppose you can say so.» said he, impatiently.

She stopped: they were walking along the streets, trying to avoid those “Gods” and their scouts.

«In this case you're a God too. You said your people used to do that, before that War.»

The Roman religious reverence made her feel small and unworthy. She was almost kneeling but the Doctor took her arm and stopped her, in that small alley they were crossing.

«I may not be human but I am no god. And I don't want you or anyone else kneel to me. You can decide your destiny, your future. There is no god or being other than yourself that has the right to meddle with your life, and we are going to show them.»

Clara could see the rage, fury, energy and power of that man behind his eyes and after a moment, she nodded. It was contagious, intoxicating even.

«Let's go» said she.

They found the carts that were heading to the countryside. The great temple and sanctuary dedicated to the Goddess of luck and destiny _Fortuna_ was in Praeneste, a small town outside Rome.

The Doctor was not used to the slowness of human transport, and Clara was a bit annoyed by his muttering and grumbling but when the finally arrived, she was too amazed to speak.

The great temple of the goddess was astounding: six artificial terraces started from the main _forum_ upwards, towards the hill and the skies. Two main staircases allowed the people to enter the first two terraces, and from there you could get to the remaining four moving inside the temple itself. The Doctor stood in awe for a moment, and then turned to her.

«We need to get to the fourth terrace, where the oracles are read inside the well of the goddess. If my calculation are correct, we should gain access to the hidden quarter of the Solerans' council or whatever it's called.»

«You mean the gods that took your ship?» asked her, still trying not to mess with all the information he gave her. He sighed, but contained himself: she was not his Clara, and it was not her fault.

«Yes, yes, of course.»

«I still can't understand how a ship can fly, but...» murmured she again, shrugging.

«Now, here's the plan. We get in like normal boring human beings, if someone asks us who we are we must decide a cover story. We may say we're husband and wife.» said he, probably talking to himself rather than with her.

«Have you seen you? You look like you could be my father!» replied Clara.

«No I could not, you're human!» he protested.

It was her turn to sigh.

«Look, if anyone asks, you're my father and you have accompanied me to the goddess' temple because I am uncertain if I should accept a man as my husband or not. It is much more simple and believable.»

He was not entirely convinced, but he established she must had been more skilled then him on human reactions, as his Clara was.

He didn't stop thinking about the fact that, since he met this echo of his companion, the Clara of 21th century London was “his” Clara. Of course, it was just semantics... or at least that was the lie he wanted to believe in: he had to concentrate.

They went up the staircase and got into the temple. The vestals-like figures registered them with their eyes, and one of them when straight down to the headquarters. A man was standing in front of a screen: the space looked like a control room, and on the various screens there were the views from various spots in the temple and the hidden corridors. The man had blue skin and three eyes, the last on his forehead, as all the vestals. The aliens in contact with humans had their third eye covered with hoods, while the skin was wrapped in cloth or veil.

«He's here, he arrived with that young girl we sent him.»

The man smirked.

«Of course. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. I wonder what is so special about this girl to finally made him get out of that Domus... it will be interesting. In fact, it was his own idea that we had to learn from him.» said he, rubbing then his hands with one another, in anticipation.

«Let them walk free. I will wait for them exactly where they want to arrive.»

 


	9. Questions

«Something is wrong.» said the Doctor, when they reached the well.

«Wrong? Nobody saw us.» said she.

«Exactly. It's too easy. They must know we are here.»

The other believers were speaking in low voices, in the corners of the room, while some were leaning on the well, listening to a priest that was trying to interpret the oracles.

The Doctor had no sonic screwdriver with him, but he had found the ancient projects of the temples so he knew where to go. He took Clara's hand, and dragged her in a small corridor: there was a little door hidden behind a tapestry, and they found themselves in a low-lighted corridor. The lamps were neon-like, and the Roman girl was stranded.

«What is this place?» asked she, frightened.

«Oh, I forget, this is still too advanced for you» he took her shoulders and tried to get her exclusive attention «in a not so long period of two thousand years, or something less, your race will evolve enough to get energy and technology to keep you out of the dark and cold with not great human effort. Now, I need you to help me. I need you focused on me, do you understand?»

She looked at him, trying to be brave and not look around at those strange things she thought were demoniac.

«Why don't you call me by my name?» asked she then, not really knowing why she thought that in the first place. He made a step backwards. No, not now.

«We have no time for this.» he said, his voice unsteady.

«Of course you do, we already know you're here.»

Those few words echoed from the far and of the corridor. They both looked in that direction and followed the voice, carefully, both frightened.


	10. Confrontation

«As always, you don't even know what you are causing. You never learn.» said the Doctor, disappointed. The man was sitting at the centre of the room, an apparently long forgotten crypt, full of higher technology equipment.

«Really? Explain then.» said he, shrugging. The Roman Clara was shaking like a leaf: that God's appearance was not reassuring at all.

«She is a intelligent creature, she notices and understands. But there is something she can't fully grasp about me, and you planted a seed of doubt in her subconscious, obviously with some telepathic shenanigans you think you have extrapolated correctly from my time machine.» said he, so patiently he could not recognize himself.

«We did, since it's working» the alien said to the Doctor «now I am curious: why don't you call her by her name?»

The Doctor did not look at the girl. Her cheeks were red: she could not understand fully what he had explained, but he had indeed said something nice about her. There was something, though, the fear of not knowing the secrets he was keeping to himself, those she could not help him with.

«None of your business.» replied the Time Lord. Two vestals took the Roman Clara, that gave a little shout before been silenced by alien hands. The Doctor turned to her and then to the blue alien.

«Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. She only tried to help. Give me back my ship, and nobody will get hurt»

His voice was controlled but firm, and he was waiting for a reply. The blue alien laughed.

«You couldn't scare me even if you were armed» said he.

«Don't test me. You will regret it.»

The alien found his determination amusing. He gave a signal with his head to the vestals and they brought the girl to him. He took her face with two fingers, to meet her eyes: the Doctor felt a wave of rage filling his stomach.

«Tell me why you can't call her Clara, and I will let her go.» he said.

The Doctor knew he would not.

«If I tell you why, you will kill her. You will try and understand my explanation by ripping my timeline in tiny pieces, exposing time and space to such irregularities and danger to destroy the universe.» he began to explain «you are just an arrogant idiot who listen to nothing or nobody else apart from himself and his pride. Have you seen what you have already done? All the things you're changing in human history are starting to create disturbance.»

«Do you think I am so naïve, Doctor? Natural disaster, interference with our system, yes, I have noticed. But I have your Tardis now. I will fix it, nothing as simple as that.» the alien replied.

The Doctor was about to reply, but Clara did it first.

«If I tell you why he can't call me by my name, will you let him go?» said she.

They all froze.

«Nobody should suffer like him, now. He is far from home, from his life, from his love.» her eyes were watering «Please.»

The alien sat down again and ordered to bring her and the Doctor a chair each. The latter did not know what to say. How could she... was she bluffing?

«He can't hear. It will break his heart» Clara continued, sitting down.

«He has two, he can cope with the loss of one.» replied the alien.

«Let him see his ship again, for the last time. You owe him that. I will tell you as soon as he can touch it.»

The Alien thought for a moment.

«Fair enough. Walk him to the Tardis, but guard him closely.»

The Doctor looked at her, and followed instructions. He did not look away from her eyes until he could. His Clara, saving him again.

 


	11. The true power of Mankind

The Alien was looking at Clara with the head sustained by his arm. She was nervous and scared, but tried to hide her feelings. The alien was not able to read her eyes, luckily, or they would have give her away without a second chance.

«What is your name?» asked Clara.

«My name? I am more interested about yours.»

She took a deep breath.

«If I am to die here, at least I would like to know your name first.»

He smiled.

«Bersek.» said he. «Now get on with your story. Why can't he call you by your name?»

 

The vestals took the Doctor to his Tardis. She was silent and still, but her Time Lord could feel her loneliness, just like an actually person. He smiled, sadly, and lightly touched the wooden surface. The Tardis had been stored in a laboratory, full of cables that were trying to extrapolate something from her and put it into all sorts of devices. Many screens, all buzzing and flashing, were giving information that apparently had no sense at all for the Solerans. The vestals were looking closely at him, as they had taken off their hoods. He turned to them and was about to speak, but he felt under his finger's skin a sort of light vibration. All the screens went on, and on them there was Clara, the Roman Clara.

One of the vestals ran to the technicians and the others, to come and look. It was when all of them went there, apart from scouts and sentinels, together with some of the security staff, that Clara started to talk. Everyone, Doctor included, was listening.

 

«When I got to the Domus, the Doctor was...» she tried to find the right word «shattered. His soul was in pieces, tore and withered like an old cloth. Something in me frightened him, I think, but in fact I think he mistook me for someone.»

Bersek frowned and then urged her to continue.

«He was not happy that he was no longer alone, even if I was there to help. I didn't know you sent me, but apparently that woman who gave me this job was one of yours.» said Clara. Bersek nodded.

«Continue.» he ordered.

«I started to observe him, while I was working. He was brooding and grouch, he did not like company and was easy to loose his temper. And yet... he was not unkind. He cared for the people, even if he had not patience enough to listen to them. He gave them oracles to help them cope with their misery, even if his manners were a little... sharp.»

She was trying to give him justice, but felt not entirely sure she could express herself. Bersek started to feel impatient himself, but thought that rushing her would make things worst.

«Then he started to open up with me. He listened to me, when I forced him to. He told me tales of his journeys, even if I could not understand much. He did not patronise me, he gave me choice. He cared for me even if, in his eyes, I could see his heart was aching. He told me about this girl, but never mentioned her name. She was travelling with him but he didn't say when or how they had parted, if they did. At first, I did not noticed it, but then... his eyes, his face, his tone... how could I mistake it? He missed her. He had left and could not go back to her, and he was suffering for it. Had she died? No, he would feel melancholy perhaps, not hurt and miserable and lost. Then, I head him speak, in his dreams. He called my name, but he was not calling me.»

 

The Doctor's hearts sank. Some of the Solerans sighed, and he stared at them like he wanted to disappear or turn them to dust. How dare could they pity him?

«He can't call me by my name because that girl's name is Clara. And perhaps I look like her and for some reason, that only the Gods know, I was sent to him.»

Her voice was stronger now, and more determined.

«How could a little thing like you help someone like him? He has the power of the Gods.» said Bersek, mocking her.

The Doctor felt anger raising inside him. That was an insult.

«How?» asked she, smiling nervously but also ironically «Don't you know? I am really sorry for you then.»

The Doctor looked back at the screens. Oh, Clara...

«He gave me choice. He gave me respect, he gave me my freedom. He did believe in me, he did not patronise me. He made my head work as well as my heart, even though for him it's not easy at all. He may have the power of all the gods altogether, but he did not use it, not for a single moment, against me. He was willing to use it to help me. I gave him back that power: that is how I helped him.»

Bersek frowned but couldn't quite understand. He was more alarmed by the fact that her voice seemed to echo.

All his staff had listened. And the Doctor was about to speak to.

«You see? This little humans you want to use as your little game pieces, your training field, is capable of greatness. A small, unimportant woman who has no patrician blood in her understood me in a matter of days. They are intelligent, they are caring, and you, with all your boldness and pride want to decide for them. Would you like to be treated the same way?»

His voice was heard by all the aliens. Even the guards and sentinels stopped. They thought about their leader, how he did not care for their lives, families, aspiration and ideas. Time and space are more important, he had said when they left their planet.

«Nothing is more important then love. And he has so much to give. Maybe that is why he has two hearts» said Clara, smiling a little bit teary «I heard them beating that night, both of them. Please, let him go. Let us all go.»

Bersek did not reply, not with his words: his actions were clearer, and more dangerous.

 


	12. The true power of Love

Clara had just a moment to realise what was about to happen. Bersek had stood up, and taken a sword-like weapon. She stepped back, there were no guards to stop her... but neither to support her.

«Love... what has love brought to you, little peasant? What has love brought to your precious _Dominus_? Despair, loneliness... the more you give, the more they take, the more they can throw away or thrash.»

At every word, he got closer to her, his face transfiguring into a mask of pure anger.

He was about to break that little life, but he was wrong about love, about what had brought her. The proof stood right behind her, and then before her.

Another sword blocked the alien's one: a _gladius_ , the Roman weapon of Legions. She recognised the perfume, then the shape of the shoulders in front of her: it was not the _Dominus_ , it was...

«The Gods be my witnesses, if you dare touch my wife with something like a villainous thought, I will personally split you in two.»

 

The Doctor didn't listen to any of this. The crowd of blue-coloured three-eyed aliens was listening to his silence. They had an extra eye as he had an extra heart, so they could see beyond normal images. They read into his blue eyes what he meant by the few words he said.

The Doctor closed his eyes when one of the fake vestals went closer and put her hands on his face: she showed him their story. Bersek was just one of them, and yes they were proud and presumptuous, but they meant no harm. They just wanted to help, but their leader, he had experienced the loss of those he loved the most, his family, that was why he could not stand that inferior beings could have it... The Doctor took the woman's hands and kissed them.

«One thing is to have a broken heart, another is to accept it.» he explained.

 

When the little crowd got to the control room, Clara's husband was threatening Bersek, unarmed and lying flat on the floor. The aliens looked at their leader, studying the situation before deciding if helping him or not, according to what the Doctor had explained them, with no words at all – in the end, they left the Time Lord in charge.

The Doctor came face to face with Clara's husband, and met his eyes for a moment. They were as light coloured has his, full of anger and strength. A real soldier, the Time Lord thought, and he did not like soldiers: they seemed to take away all the women he loved.

«What is your name, soldier?» the Doctor asked.

«Lucius...» said Clara, trying to get her husband to reason again: his hands were trembling with fury, holding the sword. The Doctor looked at Clara: she had cried, her cheeks were wet and lined.

«Judging by the way you stand and compose yourself, you are a legionary. You must have fought many battles.» continued the Time Lord. The soldier was looking still at his enemy.

«Many and many, _Dominus_ » he confirmed.

«You already won this. You don't have to kill him.» said Clara, touching his tended muscles on his arm.

«He will be dealt with, I promise. This won't go unpunished.» added the Doctor. Lucius, after another moment's hesitation, lowered his sword, taking it back to its sheath.

Clara hugged him almost desperately, disappearing in his arms, as his face disappeared into the crook of her neck and her hair.

The Doctor couldn't help but listened to their murmurs, to the simple words of love they whispered each other, and every syllable was splendid and hurtful as well.

 


	13. One last oracle

The Solerans held counsel, and included the Doctor. After some silent discussion, they decided: the Doctor would escort Bersek to the Shadow Proclamation, since the Time Lord's planet was no more – or so it seemed – to undergone trial and punishment. They left Earth in peace and quiet, and followed the stars to find a new place to live and prosper, possibly without enslaving an entire planet.

The TARDIS reappeared in Ancient Rome a few months later. He wanted them to be a few days but, as usual, he had a slight problem with calculations.  
The Doctor was back in his total black look: black trousers, black boots, black sweater with little holes in it, and black Crombie coat. The red lining inside the coat caught the eyes of the Roman Clara, when he went to visit her in her own house: a wooden little comfortable place, such as he may never live in. He smiled, and Clara felt her cheeks getting red and warmer. Lucius joined them and invited him in: in his everyday clothes, with relaxed and happy looks, his eyes were very different from the Doctor's, his soldier's anger transfigured into marital bliss. The Time Lord extended his arm and hand, and he took it. When the soldier retrieved it, there was a key in it.  
«I do not need my Domus, and I believe you can live in it or sell it, or do whatever you like.» he simply said, and they had nothing more to do than to try and not accept it, but in the end they did.  
Lucius went back to his business, leaving Clara to goodbyes: she had explained him much of what had happened, even if he did not understand it fully.   
«Are you going back to her?» she asked, when they were alone «your Clara?»  
«She is not my...» the Doctor started, but knew it was useless «I'll get in touch with her.»  
The Roman Clara smiled.  
«Did you learn from her? To give us choice?» she said.  
«I suppose yes... the toughest way. I also learned that I am in no position to patronise you, but I can help you. There is no need for me to step back, not always.»  
The Roman Clara did not quite understand, but smiled again.  
«I went to consult an oracle yesterday. I asked of you, and... she will get in touch first.»  
The Doctor raised his eyebrows.  
«I don't believe in oracles.» he simply replied.   
The Roman Clara stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.  
«Farewell, Dominus. May all the Gods always favour you.»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say: next chapter will be the last. 
> 
> Brace yourself.


	14. One last trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the hell with it. Here's the end of the story :)
> 
> Please don't kill me. I am too young to die.

“Come on, come on...”

The phone was ringing.

“Answer it, come on...”

Clara was biting her nails, listening to the sound of the call from her headphones. The smartphone was in the other hand, speakers on, and she was walking up and down the room. Why was she so nervous? She had tried over and over again what to say to him, but what if the Doctor didn't want to talk to her? In the end, she basically cast him away. She told him not to come back, maybe he didn't want to listen to her now.

«Hello?» said him, in a puzzled voice.

Clara stopped in the middle of the room, breathing rapidly.

«Doctor, it's me, it's... Clara.» she said.

Could have he forgotten her? No, come on... or maybe he stayed away for years in his timeline or something so...

«Clara... hi» replied him, extremely uncomfortable and awkward. He was alone, in the TARDIS and was playing a bit with the console, to try and distract himself, even if he was practically giving instructions to his spaceship to get him to a parallel universe where the skies were water and the seas were made of air.

Clara smiled, imagining him inside his box, and then focused on what she needed to say.

«Listen, I...»

“Focus, Clara, for God's sake. Just say it.”

«I am sorry, I was angry and scared and I didn't mean to be so blunt with you.»

She had said it with only one long breath, the same he took after that. He didn't know what to say, anyway. What should he reply?

«Look, I cannot do this anymore.» she reprised.

«This?» he asked then.

«The travelling, not the way... you do it.» she explained, in a way.

«Oh, ok.» he said, trying to sound cool with it, and not terribly disappointed. Thank God she was not there, and that he managed to stop the TARDIS from taking off.

«But I don't want it to end like this, on a slammed door, on a phone call.» she resumed her rehearsed speech (third draft).

«Then how should it end, Clara?» he asked, fiddling with the commands again.

She started do move about the room again.

«One last trip. One last adventure together, to... celebrate.» she said.

The TARDIS sound filled both their background and the ship landed in her living room. The Doctor stepped out. Clara looked at him and closed the phone call. God, why was it so difficult, with him there in person, to even consider that after another adventure all had to be over?

«One last trip, I think that could be good.» he said, without looking at her, but studying the floor. «I have just an idea about it, there is a lovely place I always meant to visit.»

«What happened to you?» she asked. She got closer, and he stepped back a little.

«What do you mean?» he replied.

«Something happened to you... you went somewhere, alone, didn't you?»

She tried to study him, but could not see what she was looking for.

«Was I forbidden to do it? Should I stop travelling, when I will be without you?» he asked, sounding a little bit hurt and a little bit grumpy. She frowned, after a moment of surprise.

«Of course not, just...» she sighed.

There was an awkward silence between them, and their eyes met.

«Please, just... just one last trip, okay?» she simply said.

He closed his eyes, and then opened them again.

 

She felt dizzy for a moment. It was like the universe, time itself, was looking directly into her soul. She stretched her arms towards him, instinctively, and he sustained her, taking them with his own.

«I don't want to travel alone, Clara. I don't want to travel without you.»

There was something very deep and painful behind his voice and eyes, and she felt her own heart ache.

«And I know that one day, after this trip, or the next, or the one after that, when I will force you to get in the TARDIS again, I would stop pretending I understood perfectly well that I am not you dashing young boyfriend with a bow tie and a disturbing disposition towards silly hats. I will pretend though that I am not two thousand years old, that I have not wives and daughters lost somewhere in the universe. I will pretend I am human, because the last time I used that stupid fobwatch I forgot myself, and I really want to be me, and remember. I will do all this, Clara, so that I can be with you, be happy, be in love, make love. Until you will get too old and will die, and I will get into such a deep desperation I would try and destroy galaxies to bring you back, and then I will try and forget you, but I would not succeed. Better a broken heart that not heart at all, I once said. It is painful, Clara, it is, more than one can ever imagine or feel, and it gets worst. This time it will be the worst ever.»

Clara had slightly parted her lips in amazement. She blinked a couple of times.

«You will find someone else, Doctor. As you always do.» she said, but she didn't sound right, even to herself. Why was she saying that? The hell with the last trip. She wanted to be in there forever. With him forever. Be happy, be in love... make love.

«Not this time.» he said. «But I can't just let you go, you see?»

She felt tears running down her cheeks and she throw herself in his arms. He took her, desperately, and felt how small she was, how vulnerable she was, how fast her little heart was pounding. Was it not the same frantic and accelerated rhythm as his own hearts?

He kissed those tears away, and then he cupped her face with his hands, kissing her lips with tenderness, with passion and with the love a two thousand year's old soul.

 

«Doctor?»

He blinked, first stunned, then confused. Then he blushed and cleared his throat. He had just imagined it, as always he added inside his head. Thank God he was outside the TARDIS.

«Look, I do not want to know where you've been. But are you okay?» she asked, her eyes wide open and inquiring. He smiled.

«Now I am.»

She smiled back, and felt somehow her cheeks getting warmer.

«So... one last trip. What kind of outfit should I get?» she asked, smiling even more, and gaining that particular light in her gaze that the Doctor loved so much. His smirk became predatory.

«You'll see.» he simply replied and offered his hand. «Trust me?»

She nodded, and followed him in, hand in hand.

 

So the Doctor and Clara went on their adventure, but it was not the last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all those who supported me and read me :)  
> Love you all, even if you feel the urge to kill me right now :) <3


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